


for all the gold under the mountain

by elesssar



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:11:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elesssar/pseuds/elesssar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was it worth it, this mountain?<br/>Never, Bilbo thinks. Nothing could be worth this pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for all the gold under the mountain

i.     There is more than one type of gold, he thinks.

A colour is only a colour.

It fills his eyes and his mouth tastes like ozone and fear, and it’s cold beneath his feet and then warm all at once and behind him he can hear a dragon roar.

It’s light, ominous and tinted with orange. The sky is aglow; a city is on fire.

It’s something precious, something fleeting and happy that he’ll remember all his life, because gold isn’t just something that turns liquid in the heat but also something good. A special moment, a memory.

It’s the way he feels when Thorin smiles.

 

ii.   Its fear. The night is dark and the flickering of the braziers only allow for small circles of light in the shadow. Faces pass in and out of recognition as they mutter quietly amongst themselves, and always in the background, _always_ , is a hapless chink, chink, chink.

He could pass from here and live and die happy never hearing that sound again.

The dragon is gone but it’s not over, Thorin has his kingdom and knows little what to do with it. His halls stand unexplored, because there is gold here and that’s all that matters.

He sees Fili’s hair in the morning. The soft dawn light sets his hair aglow, and Bilbo has to look away because he’s had enough of the gold to last him a lifetime, and yet behind him still it sits.

He wonders if he’s going mad too. Not the same way, of course, not the poisonous lust of metal on the tongue, but a more quiet kind of madness. The kind that comes with bitter pangs of loneliness.

 

iii.   He can breathe again. There’s no gold here, only mud beneath his feet and the icy blade of winter air.

The armour of the Mirkwood Elves seems more bronze than golden in this light, and Thranduil’s hair is gleaming silver. Gandalf has never borne gold.

He can’t breathe, not like this. He may be free of the mountain, he may be saving Thorin, but the fear is too much. All Thorin knows now is his gold. This heart shall never beat and yet Bilbo’s hands tremble to give it away.

No blood may pass through it and yet his may spill for this.

 

_iv.   Thorin can no longer look back. Behind him is the harsh bite of metal fallen cold; a relic from a past that wreathes around his soul. He has done so much, he has so much still to do._

_Bilbo’s hair looks nothing like the treasure of Smaug, his eyes nothing like jewels, and Thorin is grateful for this._

_No apology is enough, can ever be enough._

 

v.   The battle is screaming; his friends are screaming.

Blood is worth more than gold and it is seeping away, becoming one with the earth. It shall stain the land for centuries.

Bilbo wishes Thorin could have seen this sooner, but he knows there’s no going back, not now. If this is to be the end, then perhaps it is for the best. Let Erebor fall silent again. There is darkness there.

Thorin is light. His people follow him, blades twirling and slashing and glinting.

The light bounces blinding off the snow.

Even the white of the clouds is not pure.

 

vi.   There is nothing left now but smoke.

In the distance Esgaroth is smouldering. Nearby, bodies are burning.

He sees only the silver of the mithril and the red of the blood on his hands.

The blood is not his – it is Thorin’s, and there is far too much.

This is not what he wanted.

 

vii.   He takes no gold from the mountain. Not _that_ gold, not _that_ mountain.

Dain shall rule it now – not Thorin the mad king who clawed his way back to sanity in time to die in the arms of his lover. Not Fili, whose hair made all the treasure in the mountain seem dull.

Bilbo will not stay here, cannot stay here. Not with the gold, not with the silence. Not with the knowledge that deep within the stone chambers of the mountain, Thorin’s body lies cold.

Was it worth it, this mountain?

Never, Bilbo thinks. Nothing could be worth this pain.

**Author's Note:**

> Random sort of free-form rambling I wrote the other day...yeah.


End file.
